


The Rebellion's Magic Muse

by KaiserKittenWalzer



Category: Braveheart (1995), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Intentionally Bad, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserKittenWalzer/pseuds/KaiserKittenWalzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Leia travels through time and space to Earth to recruit the help of William Wallace and Aaron Carter in order to stop the resurgent Imperials several years after the destruction of the second Death Star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Change of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my beta readers, Princess Fabiola of Treacle Lane and Prince Jamison Rapscallion of Marie Callender's Store #0505.

Aaron Carter had been having a lot of troubles recently: tours with diminishing fan attendance, a bankruptcy nastily publicized by those shameless Hollywood rags, and perhaps most tragically of all, not much luck in the love department. All that changed, however, on a sunny day in Los Angeles, as he hid from his troubles and the cheery sun, laying in his bed, in a room darkened by drawn curtains.

As Aaron was reading on his laptop, he thought for a moment he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He could have sworn he had seen a flicker of light over by the door to his bedroom. Not seeing anything there though, he returned his attention to the article on Carrie Underwood. Several seconds later, however, again, something out of the corner of his eye. Aaron looked up, and this time he could clearly see a light flickering, not from the edges, but from the _middle_ of his bedroom door.

It was a sort of dim glow: a blueish, white tint, soft and vague as if from no discernible source. "What the hell is that?" Aaron muttered to himself, slowly putting his laptop to the side. The glow was slowly growing bigger, and now, there seemed to be added to the effervescent light, small sparks, like tiny lightning bolts shooting out from the door frame. Aaron, who'd at first thought he would get up and take a closer look, suddenly found himself questioning whether that was the wisest idea. It would be wrong to say he was scared. No, he was too transfixed on what was happening, too curious to know.

And very quickly, in the span of just a few seconds, the blueish glow grew from an area that had already reached the size of a DiGiorno's pizza, into the whole of the doorway. If Aaron wasn't startled before, he certainly was now. As it began to grow he moved back, frantically kicking up his sheets and knocking over his laptop. This was not good. This was definitely not good. "I'm fucked," Aaron thought. His prose knew only truth.

"What light through yonder doorway breaks?" he asked, and suddenly, as if in response, from the blue glow and static shocks of dancing currents emerged Princess Leia! She was gorgeous, slim, pale as a snow leopard, and dressed in her favorite white, floor length dress. She was sporting that hair that she so famously made vogue among all the fashionable ladies of the Republic. Aaron could not believe his eyes. There was no way this could not be happening.

"Help us Aaron Carter, you're our only hope" she said, with a sarcastic grin Aaron would have found obnoxious had he not been so overwhelmed by everything happening around him.

"Whaaaa, what the hell are you doing in my bedroom? And...and, aren't you Princess Leia?" Aaron gasped, tripping on his words.

"If I hadn't known you were an artist, I'd have said you were a sexy scientist...because I find you...deducing me," Leia replied, while walking over to the foot of Aaron's bed with decided determination.

"Now," Leia began assertively, "let's get down to business." She paused, and breathed a sigh, which Aaron thought might be for dramatic effect, but Leia's face also seemed to change to something sadder, more contemplative. In a voice that suddenly lost the cattiness unduly founded upon her horrendous pun-making abilities, Leia brought up her hands as if in supplication. "We really do need you.... The empire's back, and we're determined to fight them again, but this time we need more heroes than our lifetime can provide, which is why I've traveled into the future and across galaxies to reach you, Aaron Carter."

"What could you possibly want from me? I mean... how could I even help?" Aaron asked half laughing awkwardly, half confused.

"We don't have time for me to explain right now, but it's your voice, your utterly singular, magical voice," Leia vaguely replied. Aaron's interest was piqued, but not enough to be convinced by such a paltry explanation of how he could help in what seemed like a very serious situation involving people he didn't even know. "I know that won't be good enough for you, but I need you to come with me. We certainly have many heroes in our cause, but we need more, and most importantly we need you. Come with me, and I promise I'll explain everything, and if you aren't convinced, I'll return you here safe and sound, " Leia said in a candid, assuring voice.

"I really need some time to think about this," said Aaron, with obvious reluctance in his voice.

"We really don't have time. We must hurry," pleaded Leia, leaning forward towards Aaron.

"No, I really need to think about..." Aaron cut himself off as Leia suddenly grabbed his wrist, dragging him with surprising force off the bed.

"Bitch, I told you we in a hurry! I have a hair appointment at two o'clock ON THE DOT," Leia yelled.

"But if you can time travel, you could just put us back before the appoint..." Aaron said, before Leia cut him off.

"We on the Windows 8 time travel system... we're ain't exactly sure how it works. Now be quiet and let's go!" Leia yelled, dragging him towards the glowing portal. Aaron, having no time to protest, allowed himself to be yanked forward, and as he followed Princess Leia into the light he made one glance back looking at what little he was leaving behind. "The fuck you know about time travel?" he heard Princess Leia say as her voice faded in front of him. He felt his arm beginning to glow with a warmth and with that he was led through the portal.

The next thing Aaron knew, he was standing in a cavernous military base, surrounded by x-wing fighters. "Where are we?" Aaron asked confused, while turning himself to take in everything. "Welcome to the ice planet Hoth," Leia said, grinning with satisfaction. “Let me show you to your quarters. This base is smaller than we'd like, especially considering how many have joined us here, so I apologize but you'll have to share a room.”

Aaron followed Princess Leia out of the large hanger bay through a hallway made of ice and lined with pipes, before coming to a stop in front of a metal door on their left. Princess Leia pressed a panel to the right of the door, and the door's two panels each slid apart. Inside, Aaron could see a large circular room with a vaulted ceiling. To the right there was a fireplace crackling, warm, and welcoming, with a lush wampa rug sprawled out in front of it. Immediately in front of him was a set of semi-circular couches which faced one another and whose ends were separated by five or six feet to accommodate the comings and goings of the apartment's inhabitants.

Aaron looked up, and out of a door behind the farthest couch came a man, around six-and-a-half feet tall, with long, flowing reddish brown hair and the eyes of a hound who had been beaten but still knew love. He came around the side of the farthest couch, then sat down on the end and looked up. “So, you're Aaron,” he said, in a Scottish accent that tinged the sad and surprisingly delicate voice of the man. Princess Leia turned to Aaron and said, “Aaron, this is William Wallace. He'll be your roommate.” Princess Leia slowly nudged Aaron forward, and as he crossed the threshold, the door closed behind him, and the two were alone.


	2. A Warrior Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like, again, to thank Princess Fabiola of Treacle Lane, for her tireless support.

Aaron moved away from the door and slowly made his way over to the couch opposite the one on which Wallace sat. He kept eye contact with the other man most of the seemingly epic journey to the sofa. He could tell that Wallace was taking the moment to size him up, study him, in a way that suggested he already knew a lot about the young man. Aaron had the opportunity to return the favor. He noticed that William wore a long green and beige colored tartan kilt, which slung over and around his left shoulder, while a strap for carrying a broadsword on his back traversed his leather armor-clad torso. In taking in his face more carefully, Aaron now noticed that William looked exactly like a mid-90s Mel Gibson, suggesting that the documentary _Braveheart_ was, in fact, as eerily accurate as Aaron had suspected.

The young man sat down on the edge of the couch directly opposite William, and suddenly becoming self-aware  he was staring  at the Scotsman , looked down sheepishly at the floor, wringing his hands together in mild-embarrassment. “Ach, lad, I realize this must have been a long day for you.  I cannot pretend to know the number of questions you must have for me, or probably for anyone with answers to them. But before you begin with the big ones, let me tell you that in a wee while we'll be meeting with the military council to discuss much of what you'd like to know.” William had made eye contact again with Aaron, as the young man had slowly lifted his head while the Scotsman spoke. Aaron noticed, again, the sad kindness in his eyes that was accompanied by a gentle and understanding smile.

“ I guess...” started Aaron, “I guess, I can wait.  Princess  Leia explained that the rebellion needs my help, and it has something to do with my voice, but she didn't go into detail before basically dragging me along here. She at least said that if I wanted to back out after hearing her explanation, I could.”  Even while informing his roommate of this fact, Aaron secretly wondered how much he believed that promise.

William nodded  as Aaron finished . “Yes, in fact, your voice does play a key role for why you are here, but my understanding of its place in the rebel plans is limited to the point that any explanation I could provide would do you a disservice. Suffice it to say, though, that many individuals with astounding abilities are converging here to join us, though I suspect that none possesses a gift so crucial as the one you yield.”

“Do you have an ability?” Aaron asked. “I mean, I know you're a great warrior and have kicked lots of peoples' asses, or arses like you guys say,” Aaron half-laughed. William interrupted, “ It  _is_ arses, you colonial bumpkin back-water hick baby.”

Aaron stopped,  completely shocked. William looked down at the ground for a moment, “I'm...  I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper.” He paused for a minute, looking up and seeing Aaron's shocked expression and saucer like eyes, which seemed to slowly be shrinking from the astounding outburst of a hitherto  seemingly- kind individual. To cut through the awkwardness  and avoid Aaron distracting himself by questioning the source of the outlandish statement , William decided it was best to continue by actually answering the boy's perfectly reasonable question. 

“Did you ever see the mid-90s documentary about me, entitled  _Braveheart_ ?” William asked. Aaron nodded his head, yes. “Good,” William continued, “perhaps you remember the battle scene in which my identity was challenged by a soldier saying I was too short, because the real William Wallace was seven feet tall?” Again, Aaron nodded his head, although  he seemed less sure  this time . Then William said, “And perhaps you'll remember my reply:  'Yes and if he were here today, he’d consume the English with fireballs from his eyes, and lighting bolts from his arse'?” This, Aaron definitely remembered,  which he showed by letting escape a loud chuckle, unable to contain his reaction to the crude wit of the sheep-fucking Scot. But William stopped him abruptly, raising his hand and in a dark, brooding voice said," That was not an embellishment of my abilities.”

Aaron stopped suddenly, and catching his breath managed to ask in the most incredulous tone ever, “ Wait, you're not...you're not serious, are you?”

William looked over at the mantle above the fireplace, his eyes  beginning to softly glow .  _Pew, pew, pew!_ Suddenly Berlin's "Take my Breath Away" began playing from nowhere, and balls of fire shot from Wallace's eyes, illuminating the three candlesticks of a silver candelabra resting on the mantle in front of a large vertically rectangular mirror. “Holy shit!” gasped Aaron.

“There are many powers in this galaxy, such as the issuance of fire, the levitation of distant objects, or the conjuration of spells. These are all possible through the force. But understand this,” William paused, somewhat dramatically holding up a single finger, “ The so-called powers that you wield, that each of us may wield, do not belong to us, but are a way in which the force manifests itself by reflecting the uniqueness of our personalities.” William stopped, looking at Aaron, who was listening, but also seemed busy processing everything the Scotsman had said. Half sighing, William continued, "What I'm trying to say is, our power does not lie in what we can do, but more deeply, in the essence of who we are.”

“I think I understand,” said Aaron, nodding slightly, though somewhat unconvincingly, gazing off into the distance with glazed-over eyes.

“Good. Then before the council  meeting , I think it best that I take you somewhere where I can show you that while these powers are definitely of great help, we must also win our battles through more...traditional  means as well,” William said, somewhat cryptically as he made his way from the couch to a trunk by the fireplace. Reaching in he pulled out a great broadsword, which he sheathed behind his back. Then, William removed a large, full, burlap sack, knotted at the top.

Swinging the sack over his shoulder, he strode across the room, eyes fixed on the door, and as he passed close to the couch he said seemingly to thin air, “Come. It's time we go.” Aaron was confused and more than anything, overwhelmed, at everything that had been thrown onto him over the course of the whole day. “Where are we going?” asked Aaron. William, who was now at the door to the apartment looked back over his shoulder, and ominously replied, “You'll see.”

Aaron had followed the older Scotsman for over an hour into the the harsh, snow swirling weather that made Hoth such an unwelcoming planet. His patience breaking, he ended his  politely-intended silence and  finally  yelled, “Hey! We've been walking forever! When are you going to tell me where we're going?” Wallace turned quickly, kneeling down, and raising a finger to his lips. Glancing around him, he whispered furtively to Aaron, “Shhh!!! Keep your voice down! We're almost there, lad.” Aaron suddenly felt embarrassed by his outburst. He felt impudent and inexperienced. Maybe, most of all, he felt trapped in a place of total insecurity, where he knew nothing about what was happening  to him .  Much like the readers of this story.  The thought that he might have acted like a fool  (and  in fact, he probably had ) , brushed a reddish color across his cheeks, which glowed but somehow did not seem to comfort him against the fangs of ice and snow which whipped around t he two intrepid adventurers in a torment of  unrelenting fury.

After having  continued to follow William in silence for another ten minutes or so, Aaron stopped as he saw William pause, look around, and drop to his knees while taking the sack off of his shoulder. Aaron approached cautiously as he saw William start to open the sack.  William had not turned to Aaron, and seemed anxious to prepare for whatever it was that he was about to do. Finally Aaron,  who was  hunched over  and scared that he might startle his companion,  risked plac ing his hand on Wallace's shoulder. To his relief, the older man did not startle.  I n fact, Aaron could tell th at William was now acutely aware of everything around him, and perhaps, he thought, he would do well to do the same.

“Where are we?” whispered Aaron into Wallace's ear, not daring to make more sound than he  necessary , despite the whistling of the violent wind all around them. Wallace lay down the sack, and looked directly at Aaron, “Just over this  embankment is a dugout of imperial scouts, five or six of them. We received a report that they were setting up a forward observation post just before you arrived.” 

Wallace reached his hand into the sack, removing a blaster pistol, and hand ed it to Aaron whisper ing in a chillingly nonchalant tone, “We're going to take them out.” Aaron stared at him, unbelieving. Wallace, all of the sudden, seemed to switch gears, and said more playfully in  an exaggerated Scottish brogue, “ O f course, by we, I mean me, but there's a blaster for you should you find yourself in need,”  and then more seriously he continued, “All I ask is you watch and observe how a man defends his honor without the use of magic and miracles.”

Suddenly realizing what was about to happen,  Aaron  collapsed suddenly  on to his back. He grasped the blaster pistol, holding it tightly against his chest, wondering what would come next. He looked over at William, who had flipped  onto his side , back turned away from Aaron, and  then as he started to rise to his knees, Aaron saw Wallace pull out a black rectangular device.

“What is that?” Aaron asked, completely confused.

“It is called  ' Boooom Box ' ,” replied William.

Wallace pressed down on one of the device's buttons and a thunder of sound emerged from the black device. “What the hell is that noise?” asked Aaron. He did not receive an answer, as William Wallace, rising to his feet, unsheathed from his back his great broad sword. And to the magic melody of Slayer's  “Raining Blood,” screamed the scream of a dark vengeance, and leaped from ridge of the snow embankment into the imperial scouts' dugout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 2. Hope you all enjoy!


	3. Melee of Unequals

Aaron, suddenly realizing that his companion had disappeared over the crest of the hill, scrambled up the side of the embankment to see where he had gone. The music continued blasting and was joined by the unholiest screams of blood lust imaginable. Aaron reached the crest and peeked over the edge. Down below him was a simple dugout, newly under construction and nowhere near completion. The imperial scouts must have been there only half a day, if that. Aaron saw William below, trailed by a path of snow above him, evidence of his precipitous slide down the snow embankment into the den of his soon-to-be expired foes.

William had slid down the embankment into the left end of the dugout, which was a rectangular trench, around eight feet wide and thirty feet long. He had taken the scout nearest to him, not by surprise, but surely in a state of complete and utter confusion, unsure of the source of the dark music that foretold his terrible doom. Standing up-right from the crouched position William had used to cushion his slide down the hill, he swung the sword high over his head, and, bringing it 'round from his right, cleaved the scout's helmeted head from his neck, painting the dugout walls in a Pollock-esque splatter of red life-turned-death.

_Awaiting the hour of reprisal_

_Your time slips away_

Wallace wasted not a second of his advantage. He quickly picked the severed head up by grasping the bottom edge of the helmet. All the while, the next scout closest to him was dashing to a table to try and get to his blaster. Wallace brutally hurled the helmeted skull of his vanquished foe at the soldier, producing a loud crack, as it collided with the scout's head, unprotected by the cloth cap he wore. The scout, who had almost managed to grasp the blaster pistol, crashed to the icy floor, his hand slipping from the edge of the table.

William grabbed the blaster pistol from the table and held it skyward in his left hand while holding his broadsword in the right. He did not have a clear line-of-sight towards the rest of the trench. A pile of olive-green containers, stacked against the wall, obscured what remained of his panicked enemies and created a useful barrier that Wallace knew momentarily acted as a shield for both himself and what remained of his enemies.

William, his back to the wall of crates, sidestepped over to its edge, and slowly turned, peeking one eye out to try and spot where his enemies might be. Nothing. Nothing, but an empty trench, and the empty sound of wind, violently beating against the ice-carved dugout. Wallace sidestepped back to where he'd been, slowly exhaling at the reprieve of any further threat. Then suddenly, he heard a noise. It was faint, and it sounded like the rapid shallow breaths of a prey that feared for its life.

He realized he was not alone. In fact, he was back-to-back with an imperial scout, separated by only a wall of supplies. Wallace turned around, facing the wall of cargo boxes, and reached his hands high into the air, clenched with sword and blaster, and thrust his arms against the highest boxes, creating an avalanche cascading on top of his enemy. As he did so, he heard the painful cry of what sounded like a young man.

Wallace moved around what remained of the boxes and saw that indeed, beneath the hill of supplies lay a young man, with fair skin, brown hair, and blue eyes, laboring for breath. Wallace looked at him from above, then asked the young man, “Lad, where are the others?” The young man was scared out of his wits, but managed a reply.

“I don't know, I saw them run off when you jumped down into the base.”

“So there were others, then?” queried William.

“Ye-yes, two others. Captain Dempsey and Lieutenant Hale. I don't know where they went.” The young man was clearly frightened, clearly scared, clearly wounded. But as much as William felt sympathy for him, the young man was clearly of little use.

“Please, sir, help me out of this and transport me to your base,” pleaded the young man. “I only joined the imperials because there were no other opportunities on my home planet to make something of myself,” offered the young man.

Wallace looked at the young man with a strange mix of judgment, and mercy. The music had stopped, replaced by the whirling, frosty air. He pushed his broadsword into the ground and knelt, bringing himself close to eye-level with the young man. William said in a soft voice, “I release you from your obligations, and speed your path to a kinder place. May you deserve it. May we all.” The young man looked confused by William's reply, and indeed his face would forever bear that contemplative look, as Wallace pulled a knife from his boot and slashed the young man's neck. 

Aaron remained up above and had seen Wallace push the stack of crates over. He heard the cry of someone, as the boxes tumbled, but he could not see what happened as William walked around and knelt on the other side of the rubble. Perhaps he was seeing whether the scout had indeed died. Aaron saw William climb out of the dugout and disappear to the left. In a few moments, the Scotsman appeared to the side of the ridge. “Come, it's time we get back to camp,” Wallace said, extending his hand to help the Aaron to his feet. Wallace grabbed the boom box, putting it back into the burlap sack. The two plodded off through the snow, back to the rebel base. Aaron held tightly to his blaster, not sure of what he had seen.

Back in the confines of the apartment, Aaron warmed himself at the foot of the fireplace. Wrapped in a blanket, he sipped cocoa and thought about what had been, for him, a traumatic event. He'd seen at least two people,  _people_ , die right in front of his eyes. Thoughts of mortality and good versus evil suddenly consumed him. William appeared from the hallway that lead to the rest of the apartment they now shared. He was clean. His clothes were clean, his face was clean, and he no longer carried his broadsword, nor the blaster, nor any hint of blood and carnage.

“Are you okay?” asked the Scotsman.

“I'm not sure, I think so,” replied Aaron, staring vacantly off into space.

The older man looked at the boy with pity and said, “They'll tell you a lot of things this evening at the council. They'll tell you of grand hopes, of right versus might, of heroes and villains. It'll sound like a fairytale, in which you're to be the hero.” William paused. “This is no fairytale. I took you to see what you saw today, because I don't believe in sugarcoating reality. In real life, people kill, people die, and people suffer. Bad men make it that way, and force us to respond in kind. I don't relish it, nor should any man, but we must stand face-to-face with those who would subjugate us. If you accept to join the rebels, know that you will not escape your destiny, whatever it may be, without blood on your hands. I'm not asking you to say yes or no now, but I do want you to think about it.”

Aaron continued to look off into space, but nodded his head that he understood.

Then Wallace placed one hand under the young man's elbow and another on his back, guiding him up from the floor. “Come on, let's get you into bed. Get a little sleep before the council meeting tonight.” Aaron was grateful for the reprieve.


	4. An Explanation

Aaron was awakened by the touch of a strong hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and groggily looked around. As things came into focus, he noticed the alarm clock said 21:00 meaning he'd been asleep for only an hour. No wonder he still felt exhausted. As he oriented himself, William's voice broke through to him: “Aaron, it's time to get up. The council is convening and we need to get ready. We need to leave in a while to meet with them. I'm sure that they'll have at least most of the answers you deserve by now.”

 

Managing a still-disoriented sounding, “Okay,” Aaron sat up and swung his feet off the bed, momentarily perching on the edge to indulge in a deep yawn and to rub his eyes of any sleep. He looked over at William who suddenly blushed, and averting his eyes from the young man, said, “I'll wait outside for you to get ready. Help yourself to any clothes or anything you need. The Princess made sure there would be some things your size in the closet.” William left the bedroom, allowing Aaron to get himself into a presentable state.

 

William was sitting on the couch in the main room when Aaron emerged, ready to rejoin his companion and head to the council meeting. He looked at the boy and smiled at his ensemble. Aaron was sporting Timberlands with dark-indgo skinny jeans, and a sheer black belly shirt with the word 'Disaster' written across it in bold, white lettering. His head was crowned with a Von Dutch trucker hat, cocked at an angle, resting on a bed of teased blond hair. Aaron looked shy, with his hand clasped behind his back. “Do I look okay?” he asked.

 

“You look a vision,” the Scotsman assured him, twirling a few strands of his own long locks. “But you should throw that hat in the fire, “he continued.

 

“Why?” asked Aaron defensively.

 

“Because it looks like you stole it out of Eric Church's garbage,” replied William.

 

Aaron smiled and took the hat off his head and threw it into the fireplace while from behind his back his other hand appeared holding a fedora, which he placed atop his head. “I knew I was taking a risk,” Aaron smirked.

 

“Very Justin Timberlake,” replied Wallace with approval.

 

“How do you even know who that is? Actually, how do you know how Eric Church is either?” queried Aaron, all of the sudden.

 

“I time travel quite a bit across many galaxies and worlds,” the Scotsman said. “Although I'm not on Earth as much as I'd like, I still try to keep myself informed by reading various planets' journals of record, such as Earth's _Reader's Digest and E! Online_ ,” offered William.

 

“Oh wow, I've always admired men who are well-read,” said Aaron. “I mean, men and women,” quickly correcting himself, followed by a half-laugh.

 

“Sure sugar tits, sure,” said William. “Now let's say we do some body shots before shit gets real with this council meeting,” the older man said.

 

“That sounds like fun,” replied Aaron. “Do you have any Goldschlager?” the boy asked.

 

“Of course,” replied Wallace, “That's what Scott Bakula and I drink whenever we meet up to hit the strip clubs,” said William nonchalantly. He grabbed the bottle and headed over to the couch with a twinkle in his eye that clearly communicated “mischief managed.”

 

Several shots later, William and Aaron were heading down the hall towards the situation room where Aaron hoped to get some explanations. The two made a right out of the hallway into a room that was dim and bathed in a blue-gray color. A screen was on the far wall, but with nothing but the Windows 8 desktop screen yet displayed. William and Aaron took seats at the end of a long table that curved on both sides towards the far wall. Princess Leia, who stood at a podium adjacent the screen, acknowledged the two with a nod.

 

Aaron looked around, and took note of all the individuals starting to enter the room. He recognized many of them from the Star Wars documentaries he'd seen growing up. A large, crustacean-like creature, clothed in a white uniform entered. “That's Admiral Akbar,” whispered Aaron to Wallace. William whispered into Aaron's ear, “I know. Akbar is a military genius, and head of strategic operations.” Aaron nodded, continuing to note the stream of individuals entering now, among whom included Lando Calrissian, Han Solo, and none other than Luke Skywalker. Aaron shook his head suddenly, as he realized he must have been staring unabashedly at such a tremendous amount of star power in one place.

 

As everyone seated themselves at the large table, Leia pulled up a PowerPoint and began with a clear and determined voice: “For many of you, the beginning of this PowerPoint presentation may be a bit repetitive, and I beg your patience, as this is primarily for the benefit of certain newcomers who have joined us in our fight against the imperial menace.” Groans of boredom issued from some anonymous parts of the room.

 

The Princess, after a brief pause, continued, “Since the destruction of the Death Star and the Empire, the Republic has enjoyed a brief resurgence, albeit troubled by tumultuous politics in many systems, unaided by a dearth of interstellar trading and stubborn economic depression.” Leia pressed the remote in her hand and the image of a man in an imperial uniform, with a long, drawn face, gray hair, and thin lips appeared. It was a picture of Grand Moff Tarkin.

 

“While we had originally believed Tarkin to have perished in the destruction of the Death Star, it appears that he managed to escape before its destruction and find refuge in a remote system on the edge of the former empire,” continued Leia. Aaron could hear a murmur from various people in the room, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. Leia pressed on, “Tarkin has taken advantage of much of the unfortunate economic depression which especially affects the more remote systems of the republic. In doing so, he has exploited peoples' rose-colored memories of more prosperous times under the empire. Up until this point, Tarkin has managed to consolidate a half-dozen systems under his control.”

 

Leia looked to Aaron, but in a voice still intended for the whole room, said, “I think that for the time being this is enough to bring us all onto the same page. That being said, I will now reveal new intelligence which most of you have not yet learned.” Leia again clicked her remote and a new image appeared of what looked like a nearly completed space station, almost identical to the Death Star.

 

Aaron, forgetting himself, loudly guffawed and flippantly commented, “Wow, these guys just don't learn, do they?” William, previously with arms crossed, quickly flicked the back of his hand against Aaron's shoulder.

 

“Hey!” Aaron exclaimed, shocked by the unexpected rebuke.

“Shut up and listen,” said William, recrossing his arms and turning back to Leia.

 

Princess Leia, who had been looking at the two with some obvious impatience, turned back to the rest of the room. She carried on, “The new Death Star will surely have been modified to respond to _obvious_ structural weaknesses in the previous design. We do not know the extent of the modifications made on this vessel. What we do know, however, is that the new Death Star has been constructed at an immensely great cost to the resurgent imperial movement. This is because it is constructed of adamantium.” Instead of a murmur of reaction from the room this time, there was a surge of voices expressing what seemed like a mixture of shock, disbelief, anger, and outrage.

 

Leia put up her hands, pleading with the room, “Please, please, let me continue.” Turning to look at Aaron and William, the Princess proceeded, “Much as we have recruited the help of heroes who might bring our cause hope, I fear that Grand Moff Tarkin has also taken it upon himself to do the same.” Leia clicked her remote and a new picture appeared. Now it was Aaron who gasped. He immediately recognized the photo. Leia explained to the rest of the room: “The main planet from which the resurgent imperial movement is based is known as Gotheria. To consolidate his control, Tarkin has installed a military governor to oversee the planet while he supervises the completion of the new Death Star. The governor who appears in this photo is, like two of our heroes, from Earth. He is known as 'The Penguin,' AKA, 'DeVito,'” Leia explained, over-pronouncing the two names.

 

The room was suddenly filled with gasps of horror and disgust. “Wait! There is more,” Leia continued, pleading for patience from the audience. “Tarkin has also recruited another Earthling to aid him as his right-hand man in his struggle against the republic. This 'thing', is among the vilest of dark sorcerers; a conjurer of tricks and black magic.” Leia clicked the remote again, and at the sight of the image, Aaron clapped his hands over his ears which were pierced by the screams of horrified onlookers. Leia composed herself, not daring to look at the image behind her. As calmly as she could, she explained to the audience, “Tarkin's apprentice is the one known as 'Darth Cheney von Haliburton' and he is overseeing the construction of the new, monstrous Death Star.”

 

The room fell silent, and Aaron, not nearly as shocked as those unfamiliar with Earth politics, broke the silence in an effort to remove the awkward standstill of emotional terror, and also to finally satisfy the explanation owed to him. He raised his hand somewhat timidly, and asked Leia, “So...what exactly am  _I_ doing here? I mean, how can  _I_ help you?” Leia quickly snapped back into reality, released from the terror of Darth Cheney.

 

“When I told you, Aaron Carter, that you were our only hope, I meant that quite literally,” Leia started. “Adamantium is, as you know, the strongest material in the known universe. Yet it does have one fatal weakness. It, like any substance, possesses what is known as a natural frequency. You see, just as the force flows through the living, so does it animate what we know as the inanimate. Your voice, Aaron Carter, is the only voice in the universe which possesses the same resonance frequency as that of Adamantium. Through your voice you possess the ability to cause the strongest of metals to destroy itself,” explained Leia.

 

Now Aaron was the one stunned. William looked over at the boy, whose eyes were wide as saucers, and who momentarily found himself speechless. Wallace laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, and said softly, “Your angelic voice may be the only thing that can save us.”

 

Aaron had gotten the answer to his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 4. Hope you all enjoyed!


	5. A Special Kind of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter in progress. I know there's a lot of work, but wanted to get it up and then edit it after. Enjoy.

Lando Calrissian sat in a plush armchair in his apartment, enveloped in a cape and petting a white, long-haired cat, à la Cee lo Green, though Lando was neither talentless, nor a has-been hack. A beep came from the door. “Come in,” Lando said. Princess Leia stepped through the door. “Hello Lando, said the Princess seductively.”

 

“Hello yourself,” replied the BILF, with a small smile, betraying a saltiness that complemented his eyes. Something was brewing behind them.

 

“So,” said Leia, as she sauntered towards the chocolate eye candy, “Maybe we could pick up where we left off?”

 

Lando raised an eyebrow asking, “Where exactly was that?”

 

“With me whispering sweet nothings into your ear,” Leia said. “I thought," she paused, "maybe if you want, this time I could whisper them to your pet snake.”

 

Lando gave a slight chuckle, but then gave a reply that surprised Leia. “Perhaps another night my dear,” he said, his voice suddenly becoming soft and remorseful. “Today is a day I've my mind on another. It's an anniversary of sorts,” he said.

 

“Really?” asked Leia confused. “What anniversary?”

 

“Today is the day I first met Darth,” said Lando, his eyes pooling with dead sea drops.

 

“Were you two....” Leia began to ask.

 

“Lovers? Yes, years ago,” Lando cut her off. “How do you think I landed that job in Cloud City?” he asked rhetorically.

 

Leia gave a small, appreciative smile, as she took in this revelation. She had always thought of Vader as a ladies man, and had always been cynical enough to consider rumors of his dilly dallies with the boys as thoughtless slander at best. She was, despite her shock, curious to know more. “Would you tell me about it?” she asked Lando.

 

Lando looked incredulous, not sure he could open up to someone about something so close to his heart. His eyes became glazed over, as he thought back to that time, a time in his life when things were new, exciting, and a beautiful curly-haired young man named Anakin came into his life:

 

::Woosh:: the sound of the sliding entrance to the pet shop made a young Lando Calrissian look up from the magazine he was reading at the counter. He had a customer. “Good afternoon,” he said to the young man entering the shop. The man who entered his store had curly, light-brown hair, accented with blond, and he had blue eyes and pale skin.

 

“Good afternoon, sir,” replied the young man, with an accent and air that made Lando think he was probably of some importance, but somehow managed to not make an unnecessary point of it.

 

“How can I help you today, sir?” the young Lando asked, closing the magazine that had distracted him from the boredom of managing a shop without a single customer in hours.

“I'm looking for a cat, I think,” said the young man.

 

“You think?” asked Lando.

 

“Well,” hesitated the man, “I'm looking for a pet as a gift for my girlfriend,” he continued, “and she likes cats.”

 

Lando looked at Anakin, and staring deep into the eyes of the other man, whispered in a deep and monotonous tone, "I love cats."

 

There was an awkward moment of silence. Anakin didn't know quite how to respond. Lando broke through it all, suddenly grasping control of his thoughts of whimsical kitties frolicking in fields in pursuit of butterflies. He swung around the counter and beckoned the other man to accompany him to the cat section of the store.

 

“Now here we have a lovely Maine Coon: clever, large, and this one is very sassy, I might add” Lando explained, swishing his finger in the air.

 

Anakin appeared to catch on. He could be sassy himself.

 

“Then,” continued Lando, “Over here we have a gorgeous Persian. He's a bit of a princess, but is an absolute pleasure to pet.”

 

Anakin was enamored with the pure white Persian. He gazed at the feline through the glass and said in a low voice, “I shall have this one.” He leaned closer and whispered, “I will name him..." He paused a moment, "Mittens von Pillowplop.”

 

“Sounds good! I'll box him up for you!” said Lando, totally undisturbed.  He disappeared behind the back to retrieve Anakin's treasure.

 

Lando re-appeared a few moments later with the cat in a cardboard carrying box which was perforated by large holes. He rang the other man up. “That'll be a hundred credits,” he said. The man handed him a bank card and as Lando took it, he noticed that beneath was a business card. “Oh, I'm sorry, you seemed to have given me a business card as well.”

 

“Don't be sorry," replied Anakin. "I meant to. You look like you have a lot of promise. When you think about moving in another direction, call me,” he said.

 

Anakin took back his card, collected his cat, and exited the store.

 

Lando looked down at the business card and then flipped it over. Handwritten on the back were the words, “Call me tonight, if you're down with white.” Lando smiled. _Anakin_ , he thought.  _That's a nice name_. His favorite flavor was vanilla.

 

__

 

Princess Leia had been staring at Lando whose eyes were looking off in the distance.  After a little while, trying not to be rude, she finally mustered the courage to ask, “So.... you going to tell me?”  She had been hoping this whole time he'd tell her what clearly he'd been re-living for the last few moments.

 

“No,” responded Lando, suddenly. "Not today, anyway."

 

Leia looked disappointed, but then perked up when she heard Lando say, “There is something we could do. Something that could be a nice way to celebrate the past and,” he paused dramatically, “to celebrate us."

 

Leia broke into a smile, really pleased that he still seemed willing to share something of him with her. “Anything, my dearest Lando,” she said.

 

“Wonderful!” cried Lando, tossing his cat into the air, as if releasing a dove of peace.

 

“Jesus Christ!” yelled Leia, pivoting to avoid the airborne cat who passed her and landed safely on the floor with only a staccato'd " _meow_." She still was not used to Lando's personal style of panache.

 

Lando stood up and headed to the closet flourishing his cape like a god of the theater. He slowly brought down from the top shelf a hat box. He we walked back to the desk, placing the box on it.  Opening it, Leia could see it contained a mask, the style of mask Darth Vader, his lover, used to wear. “On this anniversary of our meeting, I'd like it if, perhaps, you could feed me while I wear this, much as I myself did for Anakin, in the waning years of our romance,” he said.

 

“Ummmm... okay,” Leia said, visibly uncomfortable.

 

Lando put on the mask and lay down on the bed. “The snack drawer is the top right one in the desk,” he said, his voice now synthesized by the mask.

 

Leia went to the desk, opened it and found a variety of nibblies. Meanwhile, Lando had flipped on the television to provide some entertainment. Leia sat on the bed, a special of Phill Jupitus's stand-up playing behind her. She picked up a cracker to feed Lando.

 

“Triangular mouth,” said the mechanical voice accompanied by a single finger raised to stop he.  Then he insisted, “And call me by my name as you offer it to me.”

 

“Oh, terribly sorry,” said Leia.

“Tortilla chip, Darth Vader?” Leia asked, as she pressed it to the triangular mouth, which had a flap that gave way.

 

“Uggggghhhhh,” sighed Lando, moaning in pleasure.

 

“Toblerone, Darth Vade....Uggggghhhhh,” sighed Leia, now riding Lando's fingers, as she fed him the chocolate, slowly, sensuously.

 

William Wallace closed the flap covering the small hole he'd made in the wall between the two rooms. He powered off his mid-nineties camcorder.  "I'm going to make a fortune on the internet with this," he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Meanwhile, in a room not-so-far-away, Luke Skywalker and Han Solo were lying on the bed. Marvin Gaye's voice was crooning in the background as they clinked champagne glasses. Luke smiled, looking at Han's eyes, and Han briefly glanced up at his lover, before averting his gaze. It was a glance tinged with incertitude. It felt so right to be with Luke. It filled him with a warmth that he had not known for a long time. Han couldn't help but feel a mix of happiness in the moment, and yet sadness at the thought that it would not last. The mission that lay in front of them weighed heavily on his mind, and he was not convinced by the optimism of his companions. _Still_ , he thought, _Just let this moment be_. He looked back up, smiling, and fell into his lover's eyes, glistening with the reflection of the warm fire that crackled in the hearth.

 

Luke got up from the bed, placing his champagne class on the dresser. He slid off his white cotton robe shyly, betraying the pleasure he held in the moment by a sultry half-grin. Han sat up on his elbows, arching an eyebrow with a flirty smirk, as Luke grabbed Han's glass and placed it next to his own, moving back to the bed and pulling Han by the legs to the edge. Luke got down on his knees, and unbuckled Han's belt, then began unbuttoning the fly of his tight, blue trousers. Han leaned back again to look up at the ceiling. He was really going to enjoy this.

 

Han felt the warm embrace of Luke's hand grasping his erect cock as Luke pulled it from his trousers. The feel of Han's penis in his hand felt just right to Luke, as if they were made for one another. It was like holding a corn dog. One of the big ones you get at the county fair. Luke licked his lips, and went down on Han's corn dog. OMNOMNOM.

 

Forty-five minutes later Han creamed so hard into the back of Luke's throat that the boy didn't even need to swallow. The force of pleasure that suddenly pulsed through Han caused him to sit upright with a jolt, before he fell back onto the bed, gasping in the ecstasy of their oneness. Luke gave no pause, overwhelming Han's senses as he continued to work the sensitive knob and all its nerves that were firing on over-drive. Luke slowly relented, easing the pace of his bobbing, and Han sighed in relief, his breathing slowing, as the overwhelming intensity subsided into a pleasant, embracing warmth.

 

 

Luke slowly slipped Hans' member from his mouth, kissing the area just above his penis with a gentle peck. Luke got up and removed Han's trousers completely, and climbed into bed with the other man, turning his back toward him. Han leaned onto his side and spooned Luke, wrapping him in his muscular, hairy arms. Luke felt how firm they felt, and yet they melted into him, holding him, protecting him. He closed his eyes, smiling, and he cherished the moment. He felt safe. He felt loved.

 

The two slept like that for several hours, holding each other and relaxing in the sweetness of a love long-felt but little-lived. Luke woke to the sound of Han's voice whispering in his ear. “My love, we should get up,” he heard Han say. Han had felt so bad about waking his companion, but he knew that as perfect as this was, it could not endure long the reality that lay just outside the apartment door. Han needed to get back to Leia, his wife, who would probably be returning to their own apartment just down the hall. She would be expecting him home, though she herself had popped out on business of her own about the same time as he'd made his way over to Luke's apartment.

 

"Just a little longer," pleaded Luke, turning, his eyes still closed, embracing Han in a tight hug. "Can you at least sing our song before you go?" asked Luke.  Han nuzzled Luke and whispered, "only if we sing it together."  He hit some buttons on the remote control, and the two began singing Dolly Parton's "Jolene."  Luke reached over and grabbed a bag of cat treats and began to sprinkle them all over the two of them.  The two lay there, cradling each other, as three of Luke's cats joined them on the bed, and the lovers were covered in kitties as they sang along with the music.


End file.
